By Friday everything has calmed down again. Rumors traveled through the office after Leon got fired, but they didn’t last long. There weren’t a lot of people on my floor that liked him. He wasn’t always this way, they tell me, but I’m relieved I don’t have to deal with him and his condescending attitude anymore.

I feel a little guilty that he was fired when he tried to out us. It bugs me that he was right, but he took the fall. Still, it wasn’t our fault he got fired. Wes mentioned he had anger issues. God knows I’ve seen something of his temper as well.

And that parting shot about my mother? How the hell did he know about that? And even stranger, why did he bring it up? Just another jab at me? Or is there something more that I’m missing? I’ve always had the impression he disliked me for reasons I couldn’t fathom. If it has something to do with my mother, though, I’m at a loss.

I guess everything turned out for the better. At least I can focus on my work again. And at least Wes and I aren’t keeping any more secrets. It was weighing on me. Now I can enjoy our time together. What little we get, anyway, since we’re being more careful than ever after the blowup with Leon.

I’m working late more and more so that I’m on top of everything. It’s my first project, and I don’t want to mess it up. I want to prove myself to Wes and everyone else that made me feel so welcome as their new project manager.

I like working late. It’s not just about overtime or feeling like I’m doing what I can to make it work. It’s also because the office is so quiet, then. The floor is empty, no general noise to distract me from my work, and no one drops by my desk to make small talk or ask me something. Of course, I love being a part of everything, now, but I still prefer being left to my own devices. I work so much better when I’m alone.

I’m lost in my work. The first submissions for the project have come back with feedback, and I’m anxious to know if they liked what I did. I’m proud of my work, but I like it when other people are proud, too.

“You’re working late,” Wes says, and I jump. “Sorry,” he adds. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I shake my head. My heart hammers in my chest and I swallow hard. “I was just lost in my work. I’m looking at feedback.”

I look up at Wes, and his eyes are impossibly green. He’s smiling down at me, and my stomach erupts in butterflies. Is it going to be like this every time I see him, even though we’re just sleeping together and it’s nothing more than that? He smiles at me, and I turn to jelly.

“The project is going well,” he says.

I nod. “I think I have it down. I’m still finding my feet, but I think I’m managing.”

“I would say you’re doing more than just managing. Your work is outstanding, I’ve been going over it whenever you submit something.”

I blush. There’s no good reason for it, but my cheeks burn, anyway.

“Thank you,” I say.

Wes shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. This is all you. I hired you because I knew that you were capable of this kind of work.”

“No,” I tease, “You hired because you wanted to fuck me over.”

He leans in and whispers, “And now I just want to fuck you.” He chuckles, then adds, “But seriously. You’re doing amazingly well. You were meant for this kind of work.”

He’s paying me a lot of compliments, and all of them are about my abilities, my skill, my mind. It goes so much further than a guy calling me hot or sexy. Of course, that’s just as nice, but a man paying attention to my mind just gets me on a whole different level.

“What do they have to say about your work in the feedback?” he asks.

I page through the file.

“They like the designs, they’re happy to proceed with the manufacturing, they seem positive about the programming. I think it’s going to work.”

Wes walks around my desk and pulls a chair closer from another desk. He rolls the chair so close that our knees touch when he sits down next to me and I’m suddenly flustered. I can’t think when he’s touching me. I can’t think when he’s near me, even.

“I knew it would all be good, of course,” he said. “I hope you’re proud.”

I nod, but I can’t really tell what he’s saying anymore. Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart hammers against my chest. My body responds to him the way it always does – I start getting wet. He turns me on no matter how he looks at me.

As if his bright green eyes and charming smile weren’t enough, his eyes slide down my body. He moves his hand to my knee. I swallow hard and try to concentrate on his face, on what he’ll say next. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to make rational conversation. When I’m around Wes, I lose a couple of point on my IQ and my ability to communicate coherently abandons me. Pathetic? Yes. But I lust after him, and he’s the kind of guy that makes me melt every time he touches me.

Which is often, and he does it so fucking well.

Wes’s hand on my thigh slides upward. I’m wearing a skirt and thigh-high nylons, and the silk makes his skin on mine that much more intense. I’m hyperaware of his movement, of how his hand inches closer and closer to my pussy.

When his hand pushes underneath the skirt, I swallow hard. I close my eyes, try to pull myself together and put my hand on his to stop him.

I shake my head, and he doesn’t move further, doesn’t fight me. He doesn’t remove his hand, but it’s not sliding upward anymore. Small victories.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I say.

Wes frowns. His hand is searing hot on my thigh, and I’m aware of my own breathing, too shallow and uneven.

“Why?”

I take another deep breath. It comes out shaky when I exhale.

“Because I don’t want to lose my job. It’s been a close call with Leon, Wes. We can’t keep doing this.”

His eyes are serious when he looks at me.

“But I want to keep doing this,” he says. “I want you, Kylie. Surely, you know by now how irresistible you are?”

He moves closer to me as he speaks, his face moving so slowly toward mine I can’t exactly protest. But I don’t move away, and his face is so close now I can see bits of brown in his eyes, nestled in between the green of his irises, giving his eyes depth.

I smell his cologne. It’s so strong in my nostrils, and the scent reminds me of sex. The accompanying emotion is so strong my breath hitches in my throat. I can’t think straight. His hand is heavy on my thigh and images of his hand on my pussy, his mouth between my legs, flash before my eye.

“Wes,” I say, but I don’t get to finish my sentence. He presses his lips against mine, and every argument I had to defend my opinion disappears into thin air. He slides his tongue into my mouth, penetrating me. His hand slides up my thigh again, beneath my skirt and this time I don’t stop him. His fingers slide over the lace at the top of my stockings, tickle the bare skin on my inner thigh, and his fingers brush against the satin of my panties. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body, clenching muscles at my core and I sigh into his mouth.

His other hand moves to my neck, and he presses his broad palm against my skin. He slides his hand down and into the collar of my shirt. He’s not anywhere important yet. His fingertips only brush against my pussy and his hand is on the swell of my breast, but I’m breathing hard, lust roaring through my body.

“We can’t do this,” I mumble against his lips. “Someone can see us here.

Wes stops, and I’m proud of myself for being able to think rationally. He pulls away, taking me by the hand and pulling me up. He holds me against him for a second before he steps away and leads me with him. I can see his cock, erect in his pants, pushing it out so that it looks like he’s pitching a tent. He’s not even trying to hide it.

He leads me to the meeting room.

“This isn’t what I meant,” I say. “We’re still at the office. Wes. We said we wouldn’t do this.”

Wes closes the door behind us and locks it. The meeting room only has one window. It’s wide but it looks out over San Francisco, and it’s high enough that no one is going to be able to look in and see us.

“I can’t wait,” he says, and he takes two quick strides toward me. He grabs me and spins me around, pressing me against the wall. He pins me with his body, his cock grinding against me, hips gyrating, and I gasp. My body responds to his advances and lust is so thick in the air it makes me choke. I don’t know how I’m going to stop. A moment later his tongue is in my mouth, his hand on my tit and I stop thinking altogether.

His hand slides down my body, and he lifts my skirt.

“Sometimes I think you wear these to the office just to drive me crazy,” he says.

I don’t have time to answer him. He pulls up my skirt, pushes his hand into my panties, and his fingers find my clit so that my only response is a gasp. He moves his fingers back and forth, spreading my wetness. His fingers are slick with my sex when he pulls them out again. He’s teasing me, giving me just a taste before giving me anything else.

“I want you to suck on me, baby,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “I want my cock in your mouth.”

I don’t let him ask me twice. I kneel in front of him. My skirt is still up around my hips, my ass exposed to the cold air in the room. I don’t care. I want him in my mouth, too. I can already taste him.

I undo the button and unzip him before I reach into his pants and pull out his cock. He’s hard and thick, the smooth skin stretched across the size of him. The tip is slick with precum. I look up at him when I open my mouth and slide him between my lips. His face is riddled with hunger. I know he likes it when I look up at him. I know that it looks slutty, but I don’t do it with everyone all the time. Just for Wes.

“God, Kylie,” Wes groans when I bob my head, sliding him in and out of my mouth. He puts his hand behind my head to guide me, and I pump my head faster and faster, mimicking the rhythm of sex. When I glance up at him his eyes are closed, his lips parted, and he’s gasping. I cup his balls with my other hand and suck him into my mouth, sliding slowly out, playing my tongue over his tip every time.

I can do this all day. I love sucking Wes’s cock. He won’t let me, though. He has other things in mind.